Barney Stinson: God Among Men
by imsanehonest
Summary: Barney Stinson was a god among men. It was just a fact of life that he had long since made his peace with.


**Title**: Barney Stinson: God Among Men  
**Characters**: Barney, Robin, Barney/Robin  
**Word Count**: 1,492  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. sniff  
**Spoilers**: Post 3x20, "Miracles."  
**Summary**: _Barney Stinson was a god among men. It was just a fact of life that he had long since made his peace with._  
**Author's Notes**: Because, let's face it, they're legon - wait for it - dary! grin My first HIMYM fic (eek!) and no beta (double eek!) so any feedback is most appreciated. Thanks for your time!

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Barney Stinson was a god among men. It was just a fact of life that he had long since made his peace with.

Seriously, if a logical being actually added the powers of his awesomeness (the suit, the bod, the mysterious and influential job, the apartment, the sharp wit, the string of hot babes he had wrapped around his peni- finger, and his very generous (and not at all mandated in a court of law) charity work) they would come to the same, inevitable, conclusion.

Barney Stinson: god among men.

It was a heavy burden to bare, but Barney managed it with as much grace as he could. (Which was an awful lot, since grace came standard with the awesomeness package.)

Until, one day, Barney encountered a problem. See, he hadn't realized it before, but it was becoming disturbingly clear that Barney's godliness was hinged on a combination of his aloof, confident attitude, and his (frankly magnificent) sexual track record with the ladies.

But that track record had come to an abrupt halt as of late, and his usual order of classy-yet-desperate girls just wasn't doing it for him anymore. (Which was understandable, as a god's appetite is a delicate thing.) And he still had a decent swagger a majority of the time, charming self-assurance at a high at least twelve hours of the day… But there were those other instances to consider.

Instances revolving around a certain Robin Scherbatsky.

It had all started with the epic accident three months ago. He had one little dream about Robin that might have seemed (in the wake of his near death experience) similar to a revelation the likes of which he'd never encountered, and suddenly Scherbatsky had this kryptonic effect on his psyche. One minute, he would be doing his thing (namely, being awesome) and the next, she would enter the room and he'd be about as cool as a kid with a lisp and parachute pants (i.e. Marshall in high school).

So, Barney had taken the day off early (and he didn't care what nuclear threats the North Koreans made in his absence either – like he believed their bluffs at this point anyway), and gone to MacLaren's to put on his pensive face and think about the frightening implications of this new (sophisticated, scotch drinking, gun owning, cigar smoking, smart, funny, sophisticated and incredibly hot) chink in his amour of awesome.

Unfortunately, said chink seemed to have similar lunch plans.

His drink had just arrived and he was about to head to a booth when Robin walked into the bar.

She looked gorgeous – but then again she always did. (Which was impressive, considering a woman's hotness reduced by at least half after Barney had sex with them.)

She shot a gaze around the bar and Barney, belatedly, tried to hide.

Alas, his sudden dive behind a barstool wasn't as stealthy as it could have been (mostly due to the two other seats he knocked down in the process), and the movement gained Robin's attention.

Barney panicked. She would be over there in just a minute. He needed an explanation. Something brilliant that could validate his need to attack two chairs and dodge behind another. No problem, he had this. Maybe something about a diamond stud for a button, or a girl's phone number…

Instead, when Robin reached his side and he pulled himself upright, he came up with this:

"Just as a suspected! Shoddy barstools, not stable at all." He pointed a reproachful finger at bartender Carl. "They really need to be checked out by a professional, you know."

Carl sent him a look that seemed to convey both indifference and extreme annoyance.

It was not, Barney admitted, his best moment.

But that was okay! He was Barney Stinson. He could totally recover from this. No problem.

He turned around and feigned surprise at Madam Kryptonite's presence. "Oh, hi Rob_in_."

Had his voice just cracked?

No, no. Of course not.

Okay, maybe a little, but he could play it off if he stayed cool.

Robin stared at him, her brow furrowing, causing her nose to crinkle in the most adorable way…

"Are you okay?"

"What?" Barney snapped himself out of it.

He was cool, confident.

Confident, cool, godlike men did not stare at nose crinkles and find them 'adorable.' They looked at those crinkles and saw middle age creeping in like green fuzzy mold crept into rotten bread. It meant the meat was turning south, getting sour. No one looked at rotten meat and thought, 'Oh, isn't that cute?'

What was wrong with him?

"Yeah, totally. 'Are you okay?'" He snorted, attempting to slouch casually against the bar. "Like I could ever be anything but awesome!" His elbow knocked over his drink and he just managed to save the majority of its contents.

A nervous giggle escaped him.

Robin raised an eyebrow.

"No, really though. I'm fine, man. Just chilling. Being cool."

"Are you sure, Barney? You seem to be acting a little strange lately."

Barney huffed indignantly, loosening his tie and making a frantic swirl with his drink.

"Me, strange? Who's strange? I'm not strange. I'm never strange. I'm awesome. You're the one who's strange."

He was about to giggle some more but took a swing of scotch instead.

She was good - damn her - but she wouldn't make him crack. Not Barney Stinson. After all, he was a god among men.

Robin's eyed him critically, clearly worried. "Are you sure you don't have a fever or something?"

Suddenly her hand was on his forehead and he had to catch himself on the barstool.

He hadn't been expecting that. He could look at her, sure. Even talk to her, although it might all came out a bit frantic and crazed.

But he never thought he'd get to touch her again.

"Barney!"

And then a hand was on his chest and another on his shoulder, and he was gripping the chair for dear life.

She held onto him a bit tighter. "Barney, are you dizzy? Do we need to go to a hospital?"

A woman had touched him and he had almost fainted.

Barney's worst fear had come to fruition.

He had become Ted.

This had to stop and it had to stop now. This was no way for a true bro to act. He needed to get himself together, to reclaim his godly mantle.

And that meant only one thing.

He slapped Robin's hands away (in a very godly, un-sissy like fashion) and all but danced out of her grasp. "I'm fine, woman!"

Robin had her arms folded over her (perfectly ample) chest. "Then what was that swooning display you just put on for me?"

Barney made a show of rolling his eyes and whispered to her, no easy feat while still trying to keep a good ten-foot distance between himself and her, for his own safety. "I faint, some hot girl comes to my rescue, we continue with the first aid at the love shack. You get my drift?"

The fact that he had remained so coherent for an entire statement was more encouraging than it should have been. Perhaps her kryptonic powers were fading?

"Riiight," Robin said, clearly not convinced. "Well, I'm going to go sit at our booth, order a scotch, and if you want to take time out of your busy sleazebag schedule, you're welcome to come join me in drinking away a very long afternoon."

With that she strode away with the confidence and swagger he hoped he was doing okay at faking these days, and Barney let out a sigh a relief.

Kryptonic element diverted.

Now to pick up some sexy young thing (no reason to let a bad idea go to waste), have some fun, reclaim his godlike status and forget the kryptonic, life-affirming powers of Robin Scherbatsky.

Except while checking out the bar, his eyes kept coming back to her, sipping at her drink with effortless elegance, contemplating the amber liquid with an easy loveliness that almost made his knees buckle again just to look at.

This was bad. Very bad.

Most women had the decency to lose their appeal after sex, to let Barney roam free out in the wild once more, unhindered by any of that lingering feeling stuff that just got in the way of the fun part.

But for all that she turned him into a worthless mush of a boy, some part of Barney was convinced that the fun part with Robin hadn't even started yet.

So, finishing off his scotch and taking a big breath, Barney mentally set down his godly mantle with his glass on the bar countertop.

He was a mere mortal now, reduced to such a status by the only woman who would ever be worth the noble sacrifice.

Decided, Barney picked up another drink and swaggered his way to the booth where Robin sat.

After all, she was the only person who would ever be even half as awesome as him.


End file.
